Whispering
by Afficted
Summary: One man wasn't at the Church. A Michael story set after The End.


**Hi everybody! This is my first foray into fan fiction that isn't Chuck. **

**I know there's many (maybe most) people out there who couldn't stand the ending of Lost. What can I say; I'm one of those who really liked it. **

**So, this takes place after the end. Thanks for reading, and any reviews would be much appreciated.**

* * *

I'm whispering. That's what I do. I'm only one soft voice. Part of a hive of the damned.

I separate once to talk to Hurley. I warn him. Seems like the least I can do. Everybody else is dying around me, but this is one time that I can see what will happen. If they blow up the plane, people are going to die.

Hurley listens to me. Because of him, the plane stays in one piece, and a few of them are finally able to escape. That's good. I even get to give an apology.

As if an apology will ever be good enough.

I'm whispering.

* * *

It's been a hundred years, give or take a few decades.

Hurley's "regime" seems like it's been a good one. I got a couple of complaints, of course.

For one thing, it really doesn't sit right with me that he's got that bastard, Ben Linus, as his second-in-command. Ben does well for himself. He eats all that good food that Hurley cooks (though Ben never seems to put on weight). He gets to leave every now and then, and always comes back dressed real nice. He teaches the children. Teaches... _children_. That man is a mass murderer. He was always in it for the power. He's selfish. But, he keeps on going. And he smiles, and acts kind, and people _like_ him. It's not fair.

Worse then Ben, though, is what Hurley's doing to my hive.

I'm the first one he tries to talk to. I don't answer, though. I come to him. He doesn't come to me. The first few years he comes, nobody answers him. That's good. He keeps coming back though, and eventually... eventually, one of us answers.

Hurley convinces him to leave. He convinces one of them to leave.

After that, Hurley comes back weeks... months... years later. He always talks with that laid back way of his, and he convinces them. One by one... they leave. They leave me. My hive leaves me.

Damn him. He won't stop _me_ whispering.

* * *

At some point, Ben Linus suddenly starts growing old. I don't know what causes it, and nobody seems to bring it up, at least around me. But whenever I see Ben, he's smiling. Peaceful.

The evil bastard. Enjoy being _smug_. If you're getting old, it means that soon your time is going to come, and justice is going to catch up with you.

You'll be whispering, Ben. You'll be part of my hive, and you'll deserve it, so much more than I do.

* * *

It seems like only a couple of days later when Hurley comes to talk to us.

"Michael?" he calls. I don't answer.

"Michael," he says, again. "Ben's dead. He died peacefully last night. I thought you'd want to know."

If Ben died... he should be here.

He should be whispering.

Maybe it takes some time.

Maybe...

But when I died, I came here immediately, and I've been here ever since.

I'll wait.

There's a mistake.

Ben will be here.

He'll be whispering.

…..

God damn it.

* * *

Hurley finds his replacement. He'd have been released sooner, if he hadn't been so nice in the way he went about recruiting his candidates. As it is, I still don't know about this new guy. He hasn't been tested enough, I think. Hurley brings him by and introduces him to me. Both of them talk to me for awhile, but I don't answer.

Hurley visits me on his last day. His hair turned white awhile back, and the wrinkles on his face make him look like a giant bulldog. He's still fat. I swear that in the last century, I've never known the man to eat. But he never lost his fat. Weird.

He takes a long look at nothing before addressing me. "Mike. Dude, it's time to go." He pauses, when I don't answer, then continues. "You're the only one left, Michael. The rest went a long time ago. It's a spooky effect when there's a whole mess of you whispering. When it's just you? Not so much, Dude."

Oh, what the Hell. It's his last day, and besides, I've got a bone to pick with him. "Well, if you hadn't driven them off, with all your talk, Man, I wouldn't have that problem, would I?"

He smiles, and if I had a body, I'd probably feel the warmth of that smile. But I've been long past feeling any warmth.

"You haven't changed, Dude. Still the same as when I saw you back in... Oh man."

"What do you want, Hurley?"

"I want you to leave with me, Michael."

"I can't do that, Hurley. I'm damned to be on this island forever for what I did."

Hurley just looks at me, and his smile sours. "Y'know, I've been trying to figure out who sold you that crap. I talked with the other spirits before they left. They don't know where you got that either."

"I didn't _get_ it." He's making me angry. "It's the way it is. I don't have a choice."

"You can go now, Michael," says Hurley. The phrasing takes me aback. I've heard it before.

"That's exactly what Christian Shephard said to you before the freighter blew sky high. Remember him? The guy from the freighter?"

I remember perfectly. "Uh... He... uh... he never introduced himself," I say. "I learned afterwards that he was the smoke monster."

"No, Dude. He wasn't. The Smoke Monster couldn't travel across water. The monster showed himself as Christian Shephard some of the time. Other times, it was actually the spirit of Christian. He was sticking around temporarily as a favor to Jacob, and to keep an eye on Jack and the rest of us."

"OK," I shrug. "So?"

"So, Christian and I talked. He comes and visits here from time to time. He didn't choose to _stay_ here like you."

"What do you mean _choose_?"

"The Island kept you around until you finished what you needed to do, and you did. You delayed the explosion of the bomb. Because of that some people were able to evacuate. Jin was able to get to the top, and was blown clear. You saved lives, Dude, and Christian told you that you could go."

"OK... OK, first of all, what good did it do for me to have delayed that bomb? They all died eventually, and Jin died horribly anyway."

"He got almost three more years of life," says Hurley. "He got to reunite with Sun, even if it was only briefly. Even if they died together, it was better than the alternative."

"BETTER?" I yell. "Better would have been that they hadn't died at all, and been able to raise their child!"

Hurley briefly closes his eyes. "Can't argue with that. But they're all together now, while you... you're still here. And you don't need to be."

"I DON'T HAVE A CHOICE!"

"You do. You always have."

"Liar," I say, while trying to recall if I've ever known Hurley to lie.

And then, he leaves me.

* * *

I don't keep track anymore, so I don't know if it's centuries or just a few days, when _he_ comes to visit.

I don't know where he gets the gall, but it's so like him to be presumptuous, and think that I'll talk to him. I do, but only so I can tell him off, and also because... it's been so long since I had anybody to talk to.

"What are you doing here, Ben?" I ask hoping my spiritual voice conveys the magnitude of my loathing.

"I'm putting my affairs in order, Michael. Our friends left some time ago, but I stuck around because I had things to do. And after all the years of seeing Hurley trying to talk to you, and hearing what a stubborn ass you are, I thought it would be fun to give it a shot myself before I'm on my way." He smiles.

"Where are you going?" I say, ghost teeth gritting.

"You know exactly where I'm going, Michael."

"To Hell? You're going to Hell?" I'm eager. It's only fair.

His smile widens. "No. No, in spite of the many lives I've ruined, in spite of the years of manipulation, of emotional and physical torture that I've inflicted on others... in spite of being a mass murderer, I'm not going to Hell. And yet..." He stares at me with those damned bulging eyes, "I'm moving on while you're still staying put. Now, why do you think that is?"

"I don't know. You deserve... You deserve an eternity of damnation."

"Probably," Ben says in agreement. "But that's not the way this world works. You know what I've been doing since I died, Michael? I've been living in the reality created by your fellow crash survivors. I've lived in that existence as a mediocrity, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I learned to be a better man. I brought joy to my daughter in a way I never could when I was alive and selfish. So very selfish."

"What, you think that redeems you? For all your crimes? Nothing can redeem you."

He nods. "I would think that you're absolutely right. A lifetime or several lifetimes of being a better man can't wipe away the crimes that I did. And yet, I'm moving on, Michael. The universe is allowing me to. So, let me ask you... If an evil mass murderer like me can find forgiveness from the universe, why shouldn't you?"

"I... I'm here because of what I did."

"What you did was to kill one woman, because it was the only way you thought you could save your son. Then, you accidentally shot and killed another woman. You then came back and saved lives, more than once. That's good, but the torturing yourself for centuries? Not so good. At least, I put myself in a place where I could help some people. You've just been feeling miserable and alone, and what good does that do?"

"I need to be punished," I say.

"Then we'll find you a partner with a whip and you'll get a safe word," says Ben, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, Michael, what's it going to take? If you've been waiting for Walt to come by and say he forgives you, well, sorry, that's not going to happen. He's moved on a long time ago. So has your mother. So has everybody you've ever known."

I just look at him.

Ben sighs. "Except one." He turns his head over his shoulder and calls out. "You'd better come over here. He's being stubborn."

And suddenly, she's there. She's bent over, an old woman, more wrinkled than Ben and Hugo combined. She carries a walker which doesn't make sense, because she's a spirit. Why should you become old when you're a spirit? But I can tell... In her eyes, there's that tough pride. But the anger? I can't see the anger anywhere.

"Hello, Michael," says Ana-Lucia.

I open my mouth. Nothing comes out. Not a whisper.

"You know," she says in a cracking voice, "I punished myself for a long time too. First when I was alive, and then when I wasn't. So many people in that other place chose better lives for themselves. Not me. I became a corrupt cop. I still wanted to punish myself, but my God, I did for a lot less time than you have."

"I deserve it. I killed you and Libby."

"Hugo told Libby about your apology," says Ana-Lucia. "She got to experience happiness with him after all. They're together... there."

"I'm... I'm glad to hear it." And I am.

"If you want to hear forgiveness from me, Michael, I'm not going to give it to you. That's something you have to give yourself. But I'm not angry anymore. At anybody. Not even myself. I'm just too tired. I don't need to punish myself anymore, and nobody, Michael, _nobody_ is asking you to."

I don't say anything.

"Now," she says, "I'd like to ask you a favor. I need to get to the Church, but as you can see, I don't walk so easily anymore, and I don't trust this guy to help me." She nudges her head toward Ben.

Ben shrugs. "Wise choice."

Ana-Lucia looks at me. "Please, give me a hand, Michael. It'll be the first selfless thing you've done in a long time."

I stare around at the Island, the place that has been my prison for many, many lifetimes.

The place where I made my prison.

I take her hand. With Ben Linus trailing behind us... we leave.

* * *

**This story is partially based on the Sandman graphic novel, "Season of Mists" by Neil Gaiman. In one scene Lucifer talks about the mortals who come to Hell: **

"**They die, and they come here (having transgressed against what they believed to be right), and expect us to fulfill their desire for pain and retribution. I don't make them come here."**

**I like the idea that Hell, or for that matter, purgatory, is something people inflict upon themselves, not something that is inflicted upon them by others. **

**Now, to explain the aging plot element in my story: Why do Ben and Hurley age? I've decided that they would get to decide when they would die. So, at a certain point, they let go of immortality, and began to age naturally.**

**Why does Ana-Lucia age? Simple. Spirits can age if they want to. Ana-Lucia wanted to experience the old age she was denied in life.**

**Let me know if there are any other questions you need answered. You may or may not agree with my reasoning, and I'd be interested to hear what y'all think! **


End file.
